


Stardust

by bobadeluxe



Series: Star-Studded [3]
Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, At the mountain of dadness, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26362552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobadeluxe/pseuds/bobadeluxe
Summary: A collection of drabbles, ficlets, unfinished WIPs, scrapped stuff, and what have you. All of them take place in the universe of Star Studded, though unrelated to the main story.
Relationships: Stud Stampler/Meryl Streep
Series: Star-Studded [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874887
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Deusy

**Author's Note:**

> All of these are separated unless states otherwise! They're also not arranged in any order. This is pretty much the place where all my scribbles come to die hahaha. it's better than leaving them to rot in my folder.

One thing Meryl appreciates about Stud is that no matter how polite, and good-natured he is, he isn't afraid to speak his mind. It's a welcome change from all the pretend pleasantries, and passive aggression Meryl is accustomed to. Although sometimes the truth can be too hard to handle.

"I hate your car," Stud says, with barely suppressed irritation.

Meryl  _ gasps _ .

Meryl's Duesenberg has been sitting in the Stampler residence's garage for quite a while now. Stud doesn't own a car, but this house belonged to Carl who presumably had a car at one point. Meryl doesn't know what happened to it, but it works out to his benefits. Despite owning a car (and an expensive one at that,) Meryl doesn't know a lot when it comes to car maintenance. In the past, he has always paid professionals to take care of it for him. He doesn't have that kind of money nowadays,  _ but  _ he has Stud. Stud is a handy man, he's good with his hands.. in more ways than one. As it turns out, he knows a thing or two about cars too! 

Stud offered to look over his Duesy, and to help him out if need be. Yet here he is, sighing after he took  _ one _ look at Meryl's car, as if it has personally offended him.

"You can't hate my car," Meryl says in utter disbelief.

"I can," he insists. " _ I do. _ "

Meryl looks up at him, dumbfounded. "Do you hate sunsets and rainbows, too?"

Stud barks out a startled laugh. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You obviously must have a vendetta against everything great."

"I wouldn't call your car  _ that _ ." Stud shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I just find it excessive. I don't know why someone would drive around in a racecar."

"I'm taking this very personally," Meryl admits straight away.

"Aw, you know I'm mad about you." Stud kisses him on the forehead, turns to grab his toolbox, and that's it. The end of that conversation.

Meryl can't get over it.

* * *

  
  


"Drop everything you're doing," Meryl says as he enters the living room, then slaps the book out of Stud's hands. Stud frowns at him, but he looks more amused than anything else with that smirk. "Look at this."

He shoves the magazine Vanity Fair in Stud's face. It's an old issue from around a few years back. Took Meryl a while to find his own copy amongst his memorabilia. The magazine is turned to one specific page, the cover folded back behind it: an illustration of a sharp dressed man, sitting crossed legs on a fine leather couch. His suit is impeccable, his posture more so, his hair styled to perfection, not a single strand out of place. Cream of the society lingers in his backdrop, whisked away in a flurry of activities too fine for the graphite to capture, and could only be alluded to by highlighting the clinked glasses, and chandeliers. At the far corner of the illustration, an almost out-of-frame silhouette of a man kneels at his feet, polishing one shoe to a brilliant shine.

_ He drives a Duesenberg, _ the cursive letters say.

Stud squints at the picture. "Is that.. supposed to be you?"

"That's my likeness, yes." 

His brown skin is lost in a black and white drawings, and the details of his features are mostly obscured under the shadow due to the angle, but it's him. They paid him a good sum of money for that ad. Meryl was – and still is – one of the most notable Duesenberg drivers who introduced the car to the public consciousness.

There's a brief moment of silence after Stud takes the magazine into his hands, then he breaks into an uncontrollable laughter.

Meryl's face burns with embarrassment. "What could  _ possibly _ be so amusing?"

"Oh, that's amazing." Stud doesn't answer his question. He is still chuckling, using one hand to wipe the tears from the corner of his eye. "I didn't know you were featured in one of their ads. If I knew, I would've bought the magazine."

"You're free to keep it after you're done laughing." Meryl crosses his arms while he gives Stud a dirty look. 

Stud either doesn't notice or he's pretending not to. "They didn't bother to show the car anymore, did they."

"Yes, that was the point."

"Eh." Stud closes the magazine, then puts it down on the coffee table. "I like to look at what I'm going to buy though."

"But these ads were not meant to – " Meryl groans. "This is frustrating."

Stud quirks an eyebrow, part confused, part amused by his reaction. "Does it matter if I don't like your car? I like  _you._ "

"Do you?"

"I'm smitten," he says, so easily. 

Meryl doesn't know what the hell is wrong with him. "What do you  _ not  _ like about me?"

"Meryl, you're overthinking this," Stud says, with a firmer tone of voice that he would take on when he gets serious. "It's nothing against you, I promise."

Meryl sighs. He is being difficult again, isn't he?

"Can I really keep this?"

"Yes, please do." Meryl plops down on the couch next to him. "You can 'use' it to your heart's desire."

"What?"

"Nothing."

* * *

  
  


"Did you hear that?" Meryl says to his car. " _ He doesn't like you. _ "

His Duesenberg does not reply, because it's a car. It just continues to sit there in the cramped garage, looking out of place and expensive. There's a new model out now – a Supercharged model – supposedly faster than its predecessor.  _ The only car that could pass a Duesenberg was another Duesenberg—and that was with the first owner's consent.  _ It's upsetting how much that bothers Meryl. His car still works just fine, and it's one of a kind because of its custom coachwork, and personalized features. The supercharged model  _ would  _ be excessive, as Stud said.

_ "Gary Cooper got a SJJ," Wu mentioned to him offhandedly during their brunch. _

_ Meryl almost spat out his coffee. "What the hell is that? A super supercharged version?" _

_ "Who knows?" For someone who brought up the topic, Wu did not seem interested in expanding on it. "Damn thing looks like a sports car. The chassis is far shorter than yours, and it has what they call a 'ram horn's engine.'" _

_ "So it is faster." _

_ "It's the fastest car you could get. 400 horsepower or so they claimed. It's insane." Wu took a sip of his orange juice. "Two were built, the other one for his colleague I think." _

_ Meryl planted his face down flat against the table's surface. "Kill me." _

_ "Not here," Wu said. "Hey, does your Deusy still understeer?" _

Ugh.

It won't impress anyone now, and it certainly doesn't impress Stud. Which is the worst aspect of it all, b _ e _ cause he's the only one whose approval Meryl needs. 

"You're fucked now." Meryl tells his car. 

It doesn't care.


	2. Marriage

Stud Stampler was a married man in every way but one. It took him time to see his current living arrangement for what it was, but it came about in such a non-traditional way that Stud's obliviousness was hardly to blame. This wasn't how his parents did it, after all. Young Francis did not move in with her beloved John  _ before _ tying the knot. Imagine the scandal that would bring! She didn't come from much either, both her and John built their life together, hand in hand. She wasn't a star, plucked out from the sky at the height of her career, who then settled down in a crater at the edge of San Dimas.

It was comforting in a way, to think even if Meryl was born a woman their relationship wouldn't suddenly become _acceptable._ That Meryl would be marrying below her station, if she was able to marry a white man in the first place. She would make a terrible wife by everyone's standard but his. She still wouldn't cook or clean, and her random bouts of melancholy would be considered _hysteric_. No, that reality would hardly be an improvement. They would be restricted by a different set of rules, built upon the same fundamental problem. There was not another world where they would get everything they want, and their issues all disappeared. In the future perhaps, but Stud would rather live in the present instead of wondering what could be, and what could've been. This was _as good as it gets_ , which was more than enough for Stud.

Not that the hypotheticals matter much, whether Meryl was born a woman, grew into one, or every which way in between that the world hadn't yet come up with a kind word to call. Stud loved who he loved. Nevertheless, Stud found himself still holding onto what he knew growing up, and what he saw on the silver screen. His parents were his definition of love for his entire childhood. Carl was a right bastard, but even he took a vow, and put a ring on his wife proper. A sense of inexplicable shame crept onto Stud whenever he saw Meryl's bare fingers. He wanted to do right by him, but there wasn't an etiquette on how to love a man. He was looking for a tradition to follow, but there was no tradition to follow.

He couldn't afford a ring, anyway.

Stud wondered if that made him a terrible husband.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Maybe he was the wife.

Stud was, technically, the breadwinner, but there was no good reason why a wife wouldn't be able to assume that role as well. It got complicated though considering that despite being the one with a job, Stud hardly made enough to get by. Meryl on the other hand wouldn't have to work another day in his life, if he changes his luxurious lifestyle to a more sensible one. The house was Stud's, but Carl bought it, and Meryl paid the bills. Between the expenses living in San Dimas, and taking care of Willy, Meryl spent money on them more than Stud would ever be comfortable asking.

He cooked though, even cleaned too. He did Meryl's laundry, carefully hand washed each item so Meryl wouldn't have to spend money going to the one laundromat he  _ insisted  _ was essential to maintaining his wardrobe. Laundry wasn't a skill his parents would praise him for perfecting, but Stud was proud to never get the colors mixed up, and to keep Meryl's cashmere collection pristine. Although the fact that it was  _ him _ doing this should prove homemaking was not exclusive to women. Wives. Housewives. Stud had a bone to pick with the linguists, and then himself from struggling with the language everybody else understood just fine. 

On some days Stud was good at untangling this particular ball of yarn, but on some days he just winded up frustrated and tired. Like he saw what was wrong, but he couldn't find the knots, least of all how to begin undoing them.

Stud would make a good wife though, all things considering. 

  
  


* * *

"What do you think of marriage?" Stud asked while they were lounging on the couch. His mind often wondered on a lazy, sunday afternoon.

"I don't think about it," he answered without consideration. "Marriage is for inheritance and babies."

Assuming by the tone, Meryl did not care for either of them. Stud didn't know what kind of answer he was expecting, but he felt a pang of disappointment in his chest.

"Don't you think it's a little romantic?" Stud attempted to continue the conversation, not wanting to drop it just yet.

Meryl stretched on the couch, lying down to rest his head on Stud's lap. "What part of it is romantic, exactly?"

Hm. "The vow is nice," he mused.

_ Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live? _

The ceremony was sweet too. He remembered sobbing like a baby during Carl's wedding. Sally and Robert's wedding? It was what  _ dreams  _ were made of. They both looked so happy, and very much in love with each other.

"I wasn't raised Christian," said Meryl, sounding unimpressed still. "We don't do vows."

Stud was intrigued by many reasons, but most of all was because Meryl rarely mentioned his family. Little was known of his background, both to the public and to Stud. He couldn't tell if it upset Meryl to talk of his family or if he regarded them so lowly he couldn't be bothered to care. The latter would confuse Stud. He didn't have the best relationship with his family, but he could say without a doubt that he loved them. Sometimes Meryl claimed that he didn't remember his childhood well, but there were instances where he slipped. Small details that weren't enough to paint the pictures, but were present nonetheless – like now.

"Your parents didn't need to take a vow?" Stud wanted to know more, but he was afraid to get off-topic and scare him off. Meryl didn't let his walls down like this often.

"No." Stud thought that was the end of it, but then Meryl elaborated. He was relieved. "They didn't know each other. It was an arranged marriage by their families. They had me, then immigrated to America."

"Oh." Stud didn't know how to respond. A marriage without love sounded depressing to him, but it wasn't like marriage that began with love always worked out anyhow. 

Stud tried to come up with more on-topic questions about Meryl's family, but came up blank. The silence grew too long for him to bring the topic up a second time. He sighed to himself. This conversation went to a  _ very _ different direction in his head.

"What do  _ you  _ think of marriage?" Meryl took the opportunity to turn the question back on him.

"I think it's lovely," Stud said, which was short for  _ I'm mad about you and would marry you in a heartbeat.  _

"Uh-huh," Meryl said, which was short for.. nothing.


	3. Fishing

They were not fishing. Stud had no reason to put up an act without his father around; he never liked fishing, and would never do it on his own free will. Carl leaned back until he was almost lying on the boat, drinking bourbon straight out of the bottle. They had rented a boat to waste their lives away on Central Park lake; their fishing equipment all but forgotten. Spring was here at last, the weather was finally getting warmer. Good day for trouts. Good day for thinking, too. At the far side of the lake, Stud spotted a family having a picnic.

Carl tilted his head backward, his adam's apple bobbing as he took another indulgent gulp of bourbon. The foul, golden brown liquid dripped from his thick beard when he pulled the bottle away from his lips, and offered it to Stud.

"No," he said, firmly at first, then grew softer with the look of confusion on his brother's face. "Thank you."

Carl  _ tsked  _ at him and took back the bourbon, but not before he muttered his disapproval of Stud under his breath – as per usual. ".. _ Think you're so goddamn better than me. _ "

Stud frowned.  _ This again? _ "I don't think that I'm better than you."

"You do," he insisted, glassy eyes and red-faced. "Don't wanna fuckin' end up like your deadbeat brother, huh? Yeah, you'd avoid breathing the same air with me if you could."

"Can we not do this every time?" Stud already felt a headache creeping up on him. He thought himself a patient man, but not when it came to Carl. "Didn't you come here to fish? Do that."

"Don't fuckin' tell me what to do! I will fish whenever I damn please!" he made a big fuss about it, but put his bourbon down anyway. A little bit of it spilled on his flannel shirt, soaking his chest hair where the buttons are undone. He reached for his fishing rod.

Carl struggled to tie the hook on his fishing line. He was never good with knots, and the tremors he had been experiencing recently did not help. Stud worri _ e _ d for him of course – he ought to be. They were family after all. Somewhere deep down beneath the resentment and the frustration, Stud was sure to find a great affection and concern for his older brother Carl. He would get down there someday.

"Let me do it – "

"No!" Carl jerked away so fast, Stud worried he was going to flip the boat over. "I can do it myself.."

Stud didn't attempt to argue. Better to avoid aggravating him when he had something sharp in his hands,  _ and  _ drunk. Stud learned that lesson the hard way.


End file.
